


Between The Lies - Part Two

by IreneClaire



Series: Various Notions Collection [9]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Bromance, Family, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4081462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneClaire/pseuds/IreneClaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.</p><p>Notes: I'm honestly astonished over the amazing reviews for that original one-shot. With such encouragement and the volume of ideas bandied about, the muse was kicked in the bottom.</p><p>So, here's an attempt at Stan's POV - at least one aspect of it. I'm pondering a Steve/Rachel confrontation ... the scenario needs a decent outline though which is currently elusive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between The Lies - Part Two

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

 

Danny found the plainly wrapped package on the front seat of his car. He stared at it through the open window of his Camaro. Keys in hand with his fingers gently wrapped around the door's handle as he stopped cold, uncertain as to what to do. At first he was unsure of the benign package's intent and his ingrained habits to be cautious kicked in with a vengeance. Barely breathing and no longer moving an inch in either direction, Danny studied what appeared to be a narrow rectangular box. Brown paper, perfectly taped closed without a crinkle – no writing. However, tossed just off-kilter to its side was a plain white envelope. Legal sized and duly addressed to himself as simply ' _Danny_ '. The handwriting was messy and evidently done in haste. But it clearly stated his name and was apparently from Stan Edwards per the scrawled signature of ' _Stan_ '.

The window to his car had been left open in the Five-0 parking lot. It was mid-afternoon and Danny had been on his way out to retrieve lunch for his team. Still virtually frozen by the side of the driver's door, he looked around quickly, trying to spy Stan or his large SUV but coming up empty. Danny frowned as he eyed the items suspiciously. Other than going to the trouble of pulling up the lot's video tape, there was no way to tell when Stan might have stopped by.

Of more import, was … _why_?

Instead of opening the letter or the discreet package, Danny was pushed into a foul mood as he tossed both to the passenger seat when he slid into his car.

He'd look later … after lunch … or much later, when he was ready. _Maybe ... or maybe, never._

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

 

Stan Edwards was not a vindictive man. In fact, he was rarely even angry. While it was true that he'd sometimes made mistakes in his vast business dealings, he never intentionally ever meant ill towards others. But his wife's confession had pushed him over an unanticipated edge. There would be a divorce now; it was merely a matter of when ... and how. The _how_ being the cold mechanics of said divorce and if any subsequent child support might be mandated.

In the sanctity of his home office, Stan sneered silently to himself at the concept. _Child_ support? For what? Better yet, for whom? His soon to be ex-wife was going to have an incredibly difficult time getting a penny from his coffers once he set his lawyers loose. Certainly he'd be required to give nothing for children which weren't even his by blood.

But he couldn't just turn his heart off. Not for either one of them.

"Damn her," Stan snarled angrily, his face falling morosely into his hands a moment later when he heard Charlie calling for him. He hadn't slept in days for the stress and he truly believed that he hated her with every fiber of his being. His very sick and beloved son astonishingly wasn't his. A truth he'd only discovered because the three year old was so deathly ill and required a bone marrow transplant in order to have a chance in surviving. But young Charlie needed an exact donor match to give him any hope, something which Stan absolutely had no issue with ... he'd give his son the moon on a silver platter or better yet, trade places with him, no questions asked ... until the truth came out.

_Oh, I'm sorry Stanley, but Charlie isn't actually your son. There's no point in having you tested. No. Point. At. All._

_"Daddy!_ " The first faint shout made him startle from his angry musings and Stan wiped his eyes right before his office door was tugged open. The tousled blonde head barely reached the door knob which then required a firm yank to open, but there was no stopping the little boy when he wanted something.

"Hey Charlie," Stan said weakly when the boy trotted over to where he was sitting behind his desk. He measured the healthy glow with approval because he looked good that day. Full of spunk and an excited vigor. "What are you doing, buddy?"

"Daddy, _move_ ," Charlie demanded of his one time father, very serious as he pushed and pulled on Stan's arm in order to claim just enough space. He grunted dramatically, while still grinning from ear to ear, until he shoved himself successfully between desk and business suit.

"Hi, little man," Stan whispered sadly as he quickly got the hint and eased the boy up onto his lap. Almost immediately, the toy fire truck which Charlie had clutched in one hand was off across the top of his desk in his large home office. At his mercy were the architectural plans for Stan's latest project, yet the elder Edwards didn't bother to push them aside as the toy's plastic wheels began to ruck up a corner. Instead, he held the boy's waist when he leaned forward, legs scissoring wildly in order to gain more distance across the big desk, trusting he wouldn't fall. All the time, rumbling and purring through his lips fiercely as the firetruck picked up speed towards some imaginary crisis.

Stan managed a melancholy smile as he planted a kiss on the top of the boy's head, the ongoing childish burrs escalating as Charlie pushed his truck even faster. He watched blandly as the fire truck caught a seam in the professional plans, a hotel renovation for one of his new properties in Las Vegas. Seconds later, the rip of paper was audible and yet Stan couldn't have cared less. Caught up in the little person he virtually cradled in his arms, Stan felt another pang of hatred for his wife.

_Stan, I truly am so very ... very sorry. I never wanted this to happen ... I never wanted to hurt you._

"Well you did, damn it, Rachel." Stan bit back the curse which tried to break free from his lips. Right then and at that very minute, he despised her. He hated her ex-husband for the affair they'd enjoyed which resulted in this beautiful baby which wasn't his. He completely resented the terrible situation they'd both fobbed on him and his son.

 _No, Charlie's not my boy anymore_ , Stan silently reminded himself. _"He's Danny's son."_

It was such a messed up, ridiculous situation, Stan still didn't know how to wrap his head around this soap opera-like story to end all stories. Rachel hadn't only lied to him, she'd also lied to her ex-husband. It was startling to realize that neither man had known the truth about Charlie for the three short years of his young life. In fact, neither of them ever would have known the truth if not for the gravity of Charlie's illness.

Stan faked a smile when Charlie leaned back to happily peer up into his face. "I got my new truck," Charlie announced proudly, swinging the firetruck so wildly in the air that he just missed clunking Stan in the nose.

"Daddy?" His next question was only half-serious though as he fidgeted back towards the desk. "Play with me?"

"I tried to call him again today," Stan softly confessed to the top of the suddenly oblivious blonde head. "I tried, but I couldn't do it, little man. But I've done something else. It wasn't easier, but it was ... better."

The sigh he heaved was loud, distinctly unhappy and beyond depressed in its tone. Within a matter of days, Stan Edward's entire world had been ripped apart and torn upside down. Sort of like the paper plans for his new hotel which were becoming damaged with every gregarious chubby-handed push of the toy firetruck. He'd vacillated in his moods and what he thought he needed to do or what he should do. But there was always one constant - a desire to speak to Danny Williams. It was the context and the subject of that discussion which Stan couldn't correctly define though. He also wasn't sure if he could control it.

His mood swings had him screaming in rage. His volatile thoughts had him attacking Danny verbally and even physically for this ultimate of lies. Conversely, he wanted just to talk because Danny was also suffering. As strange as it may have sounded, the two men actually _liked_ each other. In the very least, they mostly understood each other and Stan chuffed a disgruntled noise under his breath as he rubbed his old shoulder wound distractedly.

Danny had shot him one sunny afternoon in a park and Stan had been fine with it. While some might say that he never had a choice, Stan had unflinchingly taken a bullet for Danny's daughter. To save her from a maniac. And what had Stan done afterwards? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Grace had eventually been rescued. Stan had recovered in the hospital, during which time, Danny had visited in order to apologize profusely.

Then what had Stan Edwards done about it? Nothing - except provide an understanding smile and an easy _'no problem, Danny. I understand."_

So, up until that very day, Stan had done absolutely nothing but toss around an unhealthy mix of confusing emotions. He'd wallowed, dwelled and would soon have to allow himself the start of a mourning period.

"Daddy, daddy … _daddy_!" Charlie chanted over and over, leaning back to nearly hit small head to chin as his childish excitement increased over nothing in particular except for his simple happiness.

"I wish that were still true," Stan muttered to himself. It was nearing the time when he'd no longer hear that particular word and he fought the renewed spike of anger which rippled across his very soul. His other constant of late was his growing outrage and hatred for his wife's elaborate years-worth of deceit. Now wasn't the time to give into that though; certainly not with Charlie in his arms. His current internal mental struggle materialized as a soft moan of pain around another of the boy's irresistible giggles.

Dwelling in the gregarious sound of non-stop rumbling motorized chugging sounds, Stan Edwards closed his eyes while resting his chin gently on top of Charles William Edwards' young head. The vibration ebbed and flowed through the little body and up into Stan's jaw. He couldn't fathom what might happen next or what the future could hold, so he focused on the rumble instead. Oddly soothing and yet simultaneously distressing, it still took all of his effort to fight the rise of tears which flooded his eyes.

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

 

"How long are you going to wait to open those? Don't you want to see what's inside?" Steve asked impatiently, gesturing to the package and white envelope carelessly forgotten on the farthest side of his partner's desk. The entire day had come and gone, and Danny had maintained a staunch period of denial about the items as even being delivered. Steve, on the other hand, was stubbornly persistent about what Stan Edwards had so covertly left inside the Camaro.

"When are you planning to see what Stan wants? It could be important."

"I haven't decided," Danny curtly pushed out. There was a spark of anger and even defensiveness as he shoved the short pile Steve's way, his friend needing to rescue both the wrapped package and the white envelope as they teetered precariously off the edge of his desk.

Steve was also annoyed and more than a little concerned on Danny's behalf. He found himself needing to see what Stan had done and he was desperate to know if more pain was on the near horizon for his best friend. It was getting late and the sun was beginning to set. The last thing which Steve wanted was for Danny to be alone when he opened whatever had been left for him to find in the front seat of his car. So Steve stayed in the office, alongside his equally stubborn partner. He blatantly over-stayed his welcome, pestering and pushing.

"You know, this stuff could be very important," Steve stressed again. "All of this could be about Charlie. It could be medical records or something related to the doctors and his care."

That last comment wasn't very likely, yet it stirred Danny a bit more deeply and he paused long enough to think. He remained just as perturbed about the oddity of Stan having left the two articles for him. However, Steve's point was finally making a valid dent in his obstinate armor. So now, Danny eyed the envelope and package, considering Stan's possible motives before yielding just enough to grant Steve permission to look.

"If you're so interested, why don't you open them?"

"I will, if you mean it," Steve replied slyly, pulling the things onto his lap only jounce them haphazardly on one knee. He scowled though when Danny's eyes adopted a strangely angry squint. The look stopped him from continuing and Steve pursed his lips, unsure of how to proceed.

"So do you mean it? Is that a yes ... or a no?" The resultant sigh was loud and very aggrieved as Steve dramatically waved a free hand to demand more attention. "Danny? You need to see what he dropped off."

"Go ahead and open it, Steven," Danny muttered into his fist, chin poised on the palm of one hand. "I really don't care."

He glowered at the wrapped package, positive that nothing which Stan Edwards might leave for him was good even though he knew the man was just as wronged as he'd been. No doubt even more so for the original act itself; sleeping with one's ex-now-re-married-wife was bad enough to confess. Still, Danny chuffed a disgusted sound deep in his throat. He wasn't in the mood to deal with anything that day. Refusing to look up from his computer screen when Steve opted to open the package in lieu of the white envelope, his eyes glazed over. Suddenly, that computer screen and its merging blur of colors and symbols were seemingly more captivating than any messages or wrapped boxes which his ex-wife's husband might have delivered.

"Okay," Steve warned one final time as he opened one corner of the brown paper on-end, ripping just enough so he could peek inside and confirm it covered what had felt suspiciously like a glass picture frame. With an inquisitive noise, he slid the pretty ornate frame out, upside down, but a glimmer of smile was already beginning to form as he flipped it around. He looked at the picture long and hard before trying to get his friend's attention.

"Wow. You'll like this, Danny."

"I doubt it." With a suffering groan, Danny launched himself backwards in his chair and glared at his partner. He folded his arms across his chest, firmly and protectively, entirely unimpressed by Steve's initial reaction. "You opened it, now show me." Steve was beaming, but he had yet to turn the frame around and Danny wasn't in the mood to play games. He still felt an ingrained feeling of dread for anything related to his ex-wife and even to her current husband.

"What the hell is it?" Danny complained, his eyes narrowing in distrust as he identified the object as dark walnut-colored picture frame. "What's that a picture of?"

"It's Gracie ... with Charlie. He looks like you," Steve softly chuckled as he finally turned the frame, positioning it against his chest and waiting for the duly stunned reaction. "He really _really_ does, Danno."

And without a single doubt, Charlie surely did.

"What the heck?" Danny breathed out, his eyes widening with a renewed interest. The thick shock of disheveled blonde hair was only the start of what was now a much too obvious resemblance. Because, when the little boy smiled, the giddy laughter reached the startling blue of his eyes. Just like his father. Exactly like Danny at his very best of moments.

"See? Mini-you!" Steve danced the frame under his chin, unable to stop smiling as Danny's face morphed through any number of wild emotions.

"What?" Danny murmured, nearly rendered speechless by what was most obviously now an unexpected gift. The professional photograph was of three-year old Charlie sitting on Grace's lap. It was likely one of the most recent past Christmas' one-time ' _Edwards-family_ ' holiday portraits; one which Danny originally wouldn't have been privy to seeing.

But now … _now_ , things were decidedly different and Stan - of all people - was making a gesture.

Utterly stunned, Danny stood up from his chair reaching out to take the portrait for himself. Dressed in their most festive holiday outfits, both children were giggling and caught in motion. Charlie with one leg swinging high, while Grace gripped him tightly to her chest in an attempt to keep him in place. Her cheek was pressed tightly against his rosy one, seconds before her brother would escape, and Steve could just imagine what had happened next after the camera's click. No doubt Charlie had fled his sister's clutches. But the half un-rehearsed moment in time was perfectly captured.

"Hey?" Steve tapped the white envelope on the edge of the desk to pull Danny's attention back to the other issue at hand. He smiled reassuringly when his friend's somewhat glassy eyes flew up to meet his face to then glance dumbly at the envelope. Seconds later, he was back to studying the framed portrait without uttering a single comment. The first feelings of apprehension had evaporated though and Steve was completely relieved. Stan Edwards was mostly a stand-up guy, but everyone's emotions had been sorely tried and tested. Anything could happen, and oftentimes it did, with even the most moral of individuals adopting alarming tendencies or wanting to retaliate. Regardless, the letter he held in his hands would certainly reveal more.

"Earth to Danny," Steve gently pushed. Over the last many days, Danny had experienced more than his fair share of stress. What he held in his hands now was a happy respite and because of that, Steve no longer feared the envelope. He bobbed his head lower to intentionally capture Danny's eye as he waved the paper in the air.

"The letter. Can I open this, too. Or, do you want to do that privately?"

"What? Oh. Yeah, go ahead," Danny muttered, entirely distracted by the children. _His_ children.

"Are you sure?" Steve asked hesitantly. "You know what, maybe I shouldn't, Danno. Stan obviously meant this for your eyes only." For a split second, he doubted even the intelligence of his presence as he studied Danny's profile. He'd been somewhat wrong to push his friend so strongly, but he'd been very concerned at first. Seeing the portrait was one thing, however a personal letter was just that. Very _personal_ and Steve stalled, embarrassed and uncertain.

"It's okay," Danny said when he felt the atmosphere change. He glanced up with more focus, pointing to the paperwork to prove he wasn't entirely as distracted as Steve thought. "Yes. Open it. I'm sure it's nothing that I wouldn't want you to know about anyway."

"Alright," Steve said, a finger now in the crease to open the thin envelope. He read the letter within seconds, then his eyes hovered to the top to begin again. He breathed in and then out, purposefully making sure that he was in the here and now. Ensuring that what he was reading was true.

"Geez, Danny," he murmured softly. Without saying more, Steve slouched down in the chair, the single sheet of paper mere inches from his face as he reread the handwritten note for a third time, much more slowly and with distinct care. He stayed silent for a long time, too. Long enough for Danny's interest to deviate from the framed portrait to his friend's pensive state, finally piqued by an increasing fidget, inaudible sounds of confusion, and the newly amazed expression.

"So," Danny asked. His eyes narrowing suspiciously as he failed at reading Steve's expression. "Do I want to read that? What does he want?"

"He doesn't want anything, Danny," Steve confirmed with a thoughtful shake of his head. His mood had entirely changed as he handed the simple sheet of lined paper across the desk. The portrait had been a happy discovery, but the letter was sobering in its honesty. "At least, he's not exactly asking for anything in particular. This isn't what you think. Not at all what you think."

"Uh huh." Danny scowled doubtfully as he took the one sheet from Steve's fingers. He didn't know what he thought Stan might have written, but he certainly wasn't sure how to decipher what he was seeing reflected in his friend's eyes. Shock? Awe? Surprise? Possibly even ... _respect_?

"Just read it," Steve insisted. "Then, you and I can talk some more."

_**::::::::::: Stan's Letter :::::::::::** _

_Danny –_

_The time hasn't been right for me to call or see you, and frankly, I'm not sure if I will ever be ready and you may feel the same about me. I've always tried to be a good step-father to Grace, but now I'm no longer sure what my role is or ever will be in either of these kids' lives. There's no way on earth I can stop loving either of them and I want to be there for Charlie. I need to be there for him, but I simply don't know how to do that without confusing - or scaring him - even more. Charlie is smart and he senses something going on with the adults in his life. He knows something big is happening and that it involves him ... something more than being sick._

_Things are bad enough and he shouldn't think he did anything wrong. He's a happy little boy despite this terrible sickness. He's outgoing and wonderful; and I won't let any part of that change for him._

_I never understood why you stood in for me when Rachel went into labor. In fact, I never understood you … at all… the move to Hawaii. The massive changes you made in your life to be near your daughter. When I married Rachel, it felt as if I just about married you, too. I resented that you were virtually in our back-pockets ... and breathing down my neck at every opportunity._

_But then I became a father and I thought I understood. I thought that I finally had gotten it; right up until the time this debacle happened with Charlie._

_Because now he's not mine. He's yours and I probably should be angry with both of you. I know I am with Rachel, yet I just can't get entirely there. The point is that anger – rage – and fury – aren't going to make a difference about a damned thing. I love these kids. There's no way on earth that I can stop loving this little boy because of some lousy blood test._

_This precious, sick little kid who is the number one priority in this crazy fiasco of which he had choice in creating, and yet … he's the center of it. So, before I change my mind again and forget that Charlie is the priority in all of this - before I forget that you're not only half responsible but also a victim - I wanted to share a few things with you because it's easier to talk about Charlie right now._

_Consider it repayment for what you tried do to for me the day this little man was born ... because a father should know his son._

_**:::::::::::** _

"Wow," Danny murmured. He stopped reading because he had to. The words had begun to merge together so badly that he could barely scan the next few sentences. His hand fell into his lap, the paper rustling as he stared in shock into Steve's face. "This is incredible."

"Everyone's hurting," Steve whispered, barely hiding his own sad twinge of emotional distress for the tears in Danny's eyes. "He has no one to turn to and he's rightly worried about Charlie. So, in a strange way, it makes sense that he wants to talk to you, even if it's by writing a letter."

He didn't add more, but he was thinking about how Danny knew what it felt like to experience that very first lie told at the onset of Rachel's pregnancy. He keenly remembered the devastation on Danny's face when Rachel told him that the baby couldn't be his. Steve had seen what that had done to one man and now the situation was ten times worse, so he could just imagine what this new truth was doing to Stan Edwards.

"Right. Okay," Danny sighed. After roughly scrubbing his face, he simply started reading again; inhaling each and every purposeful word which Stan had seen fit to share.

_**::::::::::: Stan's Letter :::::::::::** _

_You're the last person in the world that I would dare give parental advice to. In fact, I think I've learned more from you, so let me start with something else. Let me just talk about Charlie._

_Did you know that Charlie's first word was 'Gace'? Everything was 'Gace' this or 'Gace' that. He drove his sister crazy and he still follows her around like an annoying puppy. He can barely stand it when she goes to school or isn't home ... and Grace just adores him right back._

_Like a lot of little kids, Charlie likes hot dogs. Some of his other favorites are macaroni and cheese, french fries, and of all things, baked beans. Sweets? Don't leave him alone near anything chocolate ... chocolate cake, chocolate malasadas, shave ice, well ... you get the picture._

_Charlie's favorite color is blue; he hates to wear shoes and hates to take naps. He's so afraid that he'll miss something and he'll go until he drops before giving in ... but I love that about him. He'll go and go ... non-stop ... asking questions ... moving ... looking ... running ... wanting to be everywhere and see everything all at once. Then, he just topples over ... mid sentence ... sound asleep and just ... happy._

_He has a dinosaur named Oscar – which, I swear that thing has nine lives. Oscar is a T-Rex and he's already survived the pool filter, the ocean, one attempted toilet bowel flushing, an accidental dismemberment (fixed), plus even being abandoned on the roof of my truck._

_Oscar is ... special. If I give you one bit of advice, it's don't ever lose Oscar, Danny._

_And right now, Charlie wants to be everything when he grows up. Just last week, he wanted to be a superhero and I thought we had a winner because he loves Batman. His entire bedroom from sheets to curtains is Batman. But this week he's had a change of heart and now he wants to be a fireman. So after yesterday's trip to the doctor's office, I swung by a toy store and bought a firetruck. I found the very best one I could get for him. Needless to say, he hasn't put the damned thing down once._

_I want ... wanted ... to say more and I thought that I wanted to say it in person, Danny. Much more, but I couldn't get myself there because there's just too much wrong. Too much anger. This note will have to do for now. Maybe one day we'll have that conversation. One day ... when all of this makes sense. If it ever does._

_~ Stan._

**:::::::::::**

There was nothing to do when Danny finished reading the short note. The writing wasn't perfect and seemed to be an out-pouring of random thoughts about Stan and his fears. Fears that he'd lose important memories ... shared as a letter and entirely _through_ Charlie. Yet Danny read the words through as many times as Steve had, mystified by Stan's generosity yet knowing the man was completely devastated.

"How could she have done this?" He whispered in disbelief. "None of us are innocent, but how the hell did we all get here?" If Rachel hadn't lied so long ago, things would have been so different. Maybe not perfect for any one of them, but different enough where their hearts weren't being torn out of their chests over a little boy whom everyone loved.

"Steve, I just don't understand how ... or why ... she did this." He closed his eyes while rubbing a new ache which was settling between his eyes. He needed to do something. He just didn't know what. "I guess that I should call him," Danny eventually murmured. "Call him ... thank him for what he's trying to say. _Something_."

"Maybe not quite yet. He got as far as the office and then left everything in the car. So wait a bit," Steve suggested quietly. "He doesn't sound like he's ready, Danny. For three years, he believed that Charlie was his kid. He's trying to wrap his head around what's happened and figure out what the right thing is for him to think ... and to do ... for Charlie's sake."

"Aren't we all," Danny smirked sarcastically, a one-sided sneer ruining any niceties as he considered the depths to what Rachel had done to so many people. Had she maintained the truth from the very beginning, there had been a strong likelihood of their reconciliation. No doubt it would have been near scandalous and incredibly awkward, but it very well could have been a very real future and Danny had originally wanted that with all his heart.

The trust was gone now though; demolished and buried not only for him, but also for Stan. With her treacherous decision, Rachel had rendered destruction on a massive scale.

"How the hell did this happen?" Danny sighed again. "And ... why? Just ... _why_?"

"I don't know," Steve whispered under his breath. He was at a loss, too. Sometimes as an outsider, things could be more clear. But this time, he was as much in the dark as those directly involved. Unable to offer more than his ongoing support, Steve could only watch now as Danny carefully re-folded the letter and stuffed it back into its envelope. He watched Danny shake his head in awe as he purposefully placed the framed portrait on his desk.

Steve _watched_ as Danny was completely unable to prevent his face from softening as he visually embraced his two children.

_**~ END ~** _


End file.
